


Adjustments and Turns

by blueleaf_les



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Aromantic Legolas, Awkward Conversations, Canon Compliant, Canon Universe, Cultural Differences, Dwarf/Elf Relationship(s), Fluff, Late Night Conversations, M/M, Sleeping Together, hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-29
Updated: 2020-07-29
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:47:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25593010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blueleaf_les/pseuds/blueleaf_les
Summary: Sleeping on the bare ground together, Gimli and Legolas enjoy a small talk and try to evaluate the feelings that grow between them, guess what the other one thinks and alleviate the pain of Boromir’s death, that is still fresh to their memory. Gimli tries to get over the fact that Legolas hadn’t answered his desperate revelation of feelings before entering Fangorn, attempts to forget and accept there will be not much more, while at the same time Legolas dies to know what it is exactly that Gimli expects. Body language appears to be more powerful than any words in Common Speech, the language of Dwarves, Elves or Ents.
Relationships: Gimli (Son of Glóin)/Legolas Greenleaf
Comments: 3
Kudos: 42





	Adjustments and Turns

...Legolas and Gimli slept, or at least it seemed so. 

They were cold, so they kept beside each other to get warmer and wrapped themselves in both Lothlórien cloaks together. The two breaths were unadjustable and it made Gimli very curious if Legolas is just not trying to keep the pace, if he is ruining it on purpose or if Elves have a useful yet disturbing ability to hold breath unnaturally long and Legolas, knowing it, is not even trying to breath in the same manner as the person beside him. With his eyes closed he tried to get himself some sleep by imagining the interior of the Elves' chest: what size lungs would fit in, how the veins are placed, and so on, when he realised he would very much like to see the very outside of Legolas's chest, not covered by clothes. 

He lay still, trying to focus on Elven anatomy in the "lungs and veins" and not the "chest and skin" version. Legolas's breath was still hopelessly long. If Gimli wanted to adjust his, he would choke on lack of oxygen. On the other hand, two breaths of his were taking too long to fit in into the one long: in any case there was no chance for composition. Gimli exhaled harshly. 

Meanwhile his brain counted every time Legolas's bare chest showed for him to see. 

First, when they washed in a stream, taking turns, because it was so narrow. He barely paid attention, because Merry was on one of his Longbottom Leaf rants and Gimli felt obliged to nod once and again, and he wanted the knowledge on the Longbottom Leaf lore. Now it hurt how he missed Merry and his informative rants. He missed the topics they could discuss together. 

Second time was when Legolas stripped himself during the first marching break down from Caradhas, and started to rub his arms, shoulders, neck and belly with a bunch of leaves he got from a suspiciously looking bush. Nobody commented on this, so Gimli kept silent, too, but observed with a mix of shock, wonder and disgust. Why would anyone want to feel the coarse texture on their skin?

Third time was in Lothlórien, when they went to observe Silvan folk rituals performed in the deep of the wood. Legolas was initially just going to bring him there and watch silently, by the Silvan's leave, but they were invited to join the circle and dance by the fire. Gimli was doing his best, but the moves the Elves were making were not intuitive for him, so for most part he sat and gazed at the slow, hypnothysing dance, and it very much appealed to his sense of aesthetic - as much as he was not used to perform similar moves. Legolas seemed to know the Silvan's dances very well (he’s half Silvan - Gimli reminded himself every now and again - and lived with the Silvan folk), and he took off his clothes to fit in. Gimli did not look at him solely, because other Elves seemed even more attractive to him, and did not really remember much, because he was given something very strong and sour to drink. 

And after that, he saw Legolas naked by the Anduin's shore, when he washed instead of eating with everyone else. His body showed plainly in the dusk, he seemed to be one with water. This was a moving sight, and Gimli smiled, lingering.

Listening to the quiet conversation Aragorn was having with Gandalf, he tried to move under the cloak so that not to see Legolas. 

'I can't sleep', Legolas said, suddenly. Gimli stirred.

'I thought you were already asleep, sorry to have disturbed you', he murmured, and kept his eyes on Legolas's neck, showing from under the clothes, shining in the moon's pale light. 

'No. Ye know. I am.' Legolas threw the words out of his mouth as if they hurt him inside. 'Thinking of Boromir. Him dead. And we couldn't've done anything. Too slow we came. Shouldn’t’ve overthink who to aid. I'm… I don't know, I am sinking. Every single fekin' thing goes amiss, as Aragorn says. We'll be dead soon enough. I'm scared. I envy ye and those who're not afraid.'

He made a weird sound that was half way between a sob and an angry, self-abusive comment.

'Hey, laddie, I know', Gimli said softly, trying not to show that he was shaking inside. He lifted his head to see if Aragorn and Gandalf were listening. They were not, and seemed both deep in thought. 'Everyone is afraid, especially me. Don't think…'

'And ye know what,’ Legolas interrupted him, adding to that an uneasy gesture, which meaning was not obvious, but which Gimli interpreted as an apology. Long before had he noticed Legolas is often aiding his words with body language and it is important to analyse it too. It could be that he was trying to say everything at once, and not miss anything. Gimli listened, making an understanding expression. ‘I can't trust Gandalf that Merry and Pippin are safe, something tells me they're in peril more dire than ours… Gandalf is so… not h’mself…' Legolas exhaled quickly. 

Gimli's unconsciousness noted that Elves must have larger lungs than he initially estimated. Gimli's consciousness was preoccupied with the question if it would be socially accepted to hug Legolas now. 

'Excuse me for this… Let's sleep… get some rest, friend.' He murmured.

'Calm down, friend', Gimli answered. 'I won't sleep before I know you're in a better mood. I am, too, worried about Merry and Pippin, and in grief because of Boromir. And so is Aragorn. That is obvious. But we have to move on, for Frodo and Sam. And for us, so that we can win ourselves a better future, or deserve a decent death.' He felt bleak, repeating this over and over again for himself, and he was sure it sounded similarly fake for Legolas.

'I know, I know!'

'Yes.' Gimli laid his hand on Legolas's forehead, to calm him down, but it felt awkward, so he lifted it, and then Legolas sneakily caught his hand and held it on his cheek and it felt even more awkward for Gimli, who was already striving to not to gaze at Legolas too much. 

Oh.

'Let me share a coping mechanism idea with you.' Gimli said, making an effort not to stroke Legolas's face, which was - as much as he wanted to do it - probably too much for now. He was on the verge of panicking, but kept his voice calm and steady.

'Listening'. 

(Legolas's jaw moved while he said this and Gimli felt it more accurately than he would suspect).

'Tell me about your favourite thing in the world.'

'Why?'

(‘Why the fuck will you not think, Gimli,  _ before  _ speaking, fuck you, fuck, fuck, oh my Gandalf, oh fuck, fuck, what will he think, this is so fucking stupid, fuck…’) 

'Think about the things you like. What's your favourite…’ food, place to sleep, position, drink - wine, that is obviously wine, hm, tree, hair colour, animal, stone, whatever - nothing sounded accurate, Gimli felt like he never knew any words. ‘Something? anything?'

Legolas was silent, and he was looking straight into Gimli's eyes, which would make him feel uncomfortable (especially that they were sleeping so close to each other, almost embracing, and feeling each other's warmth), if he wasn't used to this strange habit already, and if he wasn’t already stiff with anxiety. Gimli felt as if he was being tested.

'What's yours?' Legolas asked finally. He felt he was being tested. And he almost resigned any action. He was unsure what to tell Gimli, and he gathered Gimli was touched by lack of answer to his speech before entering Fangorn. Legolas simply had no idea what to answer him. "You comfort me " sounded too perfect to be either repeated or modified, and it certainly couldn't be replaced. Legolas didn't want his feelings to be described by mild, inappropriate words. He couldn't find words. But it did not mean the feelings were non-existent. They just were not described by the words he knew. 

Few seconds ago Gimli seemed the calmest person under the sky, but now a strange aura of bother could be felt from his direction, and Legolas felt guilty to have started a conversation on such a stressing topic, and a one that everyone was bored with. He wanted to mend it, and the thought of having to care for someone made him feel more contained. 

‘I like a lot of things, I hope I will never be made to choose one’, Gimli sounded perfectly composed and Legolas envied it that he could perform tranquility. His own body language showed much more than he was going to say. ‘But when I feel… bad, I often think of a small cave I found when I was a young lad. I often went there to be alone.’

He sighed easefully. 

‘The entrance must have been overlooked by everyone, it was somehow hidden between… between two stone walls, and it was unaccessible for stouter and taller folk. You would have to bend twice to fit, but I guess you would make it. If you were there, you would see a narrow corridor, completely dark and unwelcoming. After some steps, however, the aisle got wider and a light could be seen. You would be able to stand straight and observe how the sun rays sneak through holes in the rocky ceiling. It is not a regular cave, for it was not shaped by underground water, neither was it deep under the ground. It seemed more to have been created by giants… who… were throwing stones and built a granite grave… Every time I need peace I imagine I sit in that place and feel the cool ambiance of the ore.’

Legolas nodded. This sight was barely imaginable for him, but he didn’t want to offend Gimli by saying that the light is most pleasantly seen through the ceiling of leaves and branches and cornifiers’ arms. He tried to picture the cave analogically to a densely-forested area. He was silent for a longer moment, and then he abruptly said, without having thought about it. 

‘Then my favourite thing in the world is being able to wash. I miss the river, and hope to get a chance to wash m’self as soon as possible. Wash away the filth. This is… I… now, I know how to say it. Do’ye remember the Silvan’s dance? The one we saw in Lothlórien?’

He hesitated, even though Gimli smiled and said ‘yes’ in the most appealing and encouraging way he could imagine. 

‘Gimli, shouldn’t’ye sleep?’

‘In a minute’, answered Gimli, fully aware of the fact that once he started thinking about a hot bath with Legolas - plenty of soap, fresh scent, thick towels, wet hair - he wouldn’t fall asleep so easily, also when he was so close to him right now, under the very same blanket and touching him with the full length of his body. ‘Finish about the favourite thing first, I am too curious to know that.’

Legolas showed his teeth in something that was supposedly a smile.

‘Well. So we saw the ritual Silvan dance, not in its full length, however, because Galadriel is a racist ruler and… oh, ye know. Ye’ev heard.’ It was strangely satisfying for him to say this. ‘This dance usually takes hours, and I mean… long hours, possibly days, the length depends really on the stamina of the performers. This is to exhaust. To feel half-dead. I’ev only done that several times, seven or eight. ‘tis very special. So it takes time. After that I was always barely standing on my legs, and the custom is to fall asleep at once, but I preferred to ignore this, and went wash m’self in the stream. Laid in the cold water, until there was no sweat on me, and then slept in the forest, when the stronger folk still danced.’

Having said this, he was very unsatisfied with himself. 

‘I wish I could describe the feeling to you’, he said sadly. ‘Or ye should live it through y’rself.’

‘I would love to’, Gimli said with this throat dry. He avoided Legolas’s eyes, let his own eyelids slide down. Guilt overcame him, that he was not caring about Boromir, Merry, Pippin, and especially Sam and Frodo, he was thinking about how Legolas had not answered him in any way when they entered Fangorn. It hurt, though he immediately told himself to get over it. He was not to expect anything more. 

Thinking how to get to know what he thinks, Legolas was looking at him softly. He was sure Gimli had emotions about him, any doubts he previously had were gone. 

What to do with it now? 

‘Thank you’, he whispered, hearing that Aragorn is moving and will probably want to sleep near them. There was no chance to speak in private now. Legolas felt the weight of Gimli’s feelings, and it was very weird for him: he felt responsible for them, and was willing to accept the dedication and any addition to the friendship, but he didn’t know what was expected from him. 

Never before had he wanted to ask a question so much. But he couldn’t ask now, ‘what do you want from me?’. 

Because what if we have too distinct expectations. 

‘Gimli, thank you’, he said again, not paying attention to Aragorn anymore. He moved his arm under Gimli’s neck. ‘Oh, that’s much better, ain’t it.’

This was too confusing for Gimli - too confusing to be analysed, at least right now, so he just decided to roll with this, and said ‘yes’, while placing his arm over Legolas’s back. The unadjustable breaths sounded comforting now. After some minutes Gimli was more likely to perceive this seemingly disorder as a secret harmony. 

And, lying like that in his arms, Gimli thought again that it is impossible that Legolas had not understood what was being said to him before the wall of trees of Fangorn forest. Of course he understood. And now it seemed that he was taking his time to answer. Not hesitating. Taking his time. Not hesitating. This was rational. This was wise. 

‘And they say Elves marry irrationally, at the first sight and what not’. He was glad to observe that Legolas differed from the unlikeable stereotype. Nevertheless, he hoped he would not have to wait with the answer until the death of one of them. Tragic confessions were good in songs, but Gimli was not a fan of them in real life. Had they not so little time, he would be patient to wait. Anyway it was more pleasing to wait for the official acceptance of his wanting than for death. 

**Author's Note:**

> as you can see Gimli as a poet cough cough Andrew Marvell cough cough entered the chat in the last paragraph...


End file.
